Zhang Xingjian was sandwiched between two young ladies, front and back. Shen Qingwu gripped his hand and would not let go, which not only left Shen Qingye’s face burning with embarrassment, but also froze the entire flower-viewing banquet into an icy, awkward silence.

What was supposed to be a proper matchmaking meeting—how had it turned into “two women vying for one husband”?

One of the Shen family’s sisters-in-law saw that things were going badly, scrambled up with a forced smile, and hurried over to Shen Qingwu’s side.

This young sister-in-law made a show of playfully trying to pull Shen Qingwu away, explaining to those around them: “Our Second Miss had too much wine today and is talking nonsense—don’t take it seriously. Second Miss, if you can’t hold your liquor, there’s no need to put on a brave face…”

Shen Qingwu’s expression stayed calm. “Don’t touch my hand. I don’t know you well enough for that.”

The sister-in-law’s face flushed crimson in an instant, and she froze where she stood.

Then a servant rushed over carrying a tea tray, the hot tea seemingly about to spill straight onto Shen Qingwu, while putting on an exaggerated show of calling out, “Second Miss, careful—!”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes flashed; he reached out to grab Shen Qingwu’s hand and pull her out of the way. But before he could, Shen Qingwu reacted even faster—she raised her hand, half-struck and half-shoved with her elbow, and kicked outward with her knee.

In the blink of an eye, not a drop of the tea touched Shen Qingwu. The entire tray of teacups was knocked away by her, clattering and shattering across the ground.

Everyone froze in shock.

The Shen family matriarch could no longer stay seated. Trembling with fury, lips quivering, she snapped, “Insolence!”

Madam Shen shook all over, hating this troublesome girl who had turned what should have been a proper matchmaking banquet into the talk of all Bianjing. “Shen Qingwu has lost her mind! Someone, seize her and lock her up!”

The servants received the order and rushed at Shen Qingwu.

Shen Qingye, standing to the side, had already gone pale, now filled with anxiety. “Cousin—!”

Shen Qingwu, however, remained calm.

She had grown numb to being punished at the slightest provocation, and besides, she had already said what she wanted to say and done what she wanted to do.

Before the servants seized her and dragged her away, Shen Qingwu lifted her eyes and glanced once at the man who had just tried to pull her out of the way of the scalding tea—Zhang Xingjian.

This man had just tried to save her.

A small warmth rose in her heart: I must have made myself clear.

He knows I’m the one who saved his life. He’ll repay that debt with marriage. He tried to protect me too—he must feel something for me as well.

This must be what they call “mutual affection.”

He’ll take me away from the Shen family. We’re bound to have a happy marriage, growing old together.

Because of the day’s events, and worry over her cousin on top of it, Shen Qingye fell seriously ill that very evening. By the time she regained some clarity of mind, the lamps were already lit for the night. A Shen family servant stood outside her curtained doorway, bowing in greeting, saying Madam Shen requested her presence.

Living under another’s roof, she had no control over her own fate. Earlier, the Shen household had shown her some pity for her frail health and let her rest, but now that trouble had struck, no one cared about her condition at all. She had barely regained consciousness before the servants insisted, firmly, that she come at once.

Shen Qingye said nothing, forcing her sick body upright. After all, she too was worried about what would happen to Shen Qingwu.

When she arrived at the matriarch’s residence, she went in to pay her respects. Madam Shen greeted her with warmth that did not lack for authority, and had her sit.

They chatted idly for a while—Madam Shen brought up Shen Qingye’s parents, which drew a few tears from her—before finally turning to what she truly wanted to discuss.

“Second Miss said today that she saved young master Zhang. What exactly happened? The Zhang family’s daughter came to ask me about it, and I could only smile and say I didn’t know. But I do owe the Zhang family an explanation. Qingye, on your journey to the capital—did you happen to travel with the Zhang family’s third son?”

What worried Madam Shen even more was: “Could it be that Zhang Sanlang and Second Miss have some sort of understanding between them—some promise made?”

Shen Qingye explained gently, “It’s not like that. Cousin was bringing me to the capital. In a grove of parasol trees less than ten li from Bianjing, Cousin saved a man who had been… who had been buried alive. That man was the Zhang family’s third son.”

Madam Shen pressed, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Hoping her cousin would be treated fairly, Shen Qingye earnestly recounted the events of that night—how she had smelled blood in the air…

Madam Shen cut her off. “So you were the one who first noticed Zhang Sanlang was in trouble?”

Sensing something was off, Shen Qingye tried to correct her. “It was Cousin who thought the horsemen seemed suspicious. Cousin was worried there might be danger.”

Madam Shen nodded noncommittally, seeming lost in thought.

Shen Qingye continued.

Madam Shen interrupted again. “When you moved him onto the carriage, it was you who said to fetch medicine and treat him—Shen Qingwu herself had no intention of saving him?”

Shen Qingye said, “Aunt, Cousin is quiet and reserved by nature, not one for many words. I only spoke what was in her heart—she surely felt the same as I did…”

Madam Shen gave a cold laugh. “That girl Shen Qingwu—do you think I don’t know her? Dead inside, no feelings, no desires, indifferent to everything. You think she’d want to save someone? It must have been your kindness, Qingye, that left her with nothing to say.”

Shen Qingye struggled to argue. “That’s not how it was…”

She kept trying to tell the story, haltingly, but Madam Shen kept interrupting. By the time Shen Qingye realized what Madam Shen was really after, she felt lost, unable to find the words to defend her cousin. In the end, her spirits sank, and she began to cough into her sleeve.

Madam Shen, with an air of tender concern, had a maid see her back to her room, and offered her own summary of the night’s conversation: “So it was you and Second Miss together who saved young master Zhang. That thing Qingwu said earlier gave me quite a fright—thankfully, the truth wasn’t as she claimed.

“Qingye, you’re a good child, but you don’t know what a little troublemaker that girl really is. From now on, spend your time with the other young ladies instead. Don’t concern yourself with her anymore.”

Shen Qingye said, “Aunt, Cousin did far more to save him—I only said a couple of words. All the actual saving, Cousin did herself.”

Standing in the dim light of the corridor lanterns, she offered gently, “Cousin does seem to be quite fond of the Zhang family’s third son. Perhaps, Aunt, you could grant them your blessing…”

Before she could finish, Madam Shen’s laughter cut her off.

Madam Shen tenderly fastened the collar of her cloak, her ice-cold hands making Shen Qingye flinch. Shen Qingye looked up and saw, against the dark night sky, the twisted silhouettes of the mythical beast-head roof ornaments above the eaves, and Madam Shen’s smiling eyes, which brooked no argument.

“A marriage alliance between the Shen and Zhang families is not something for the younger generation to have opinions on. What happened today already went too far. Qingye, I hear you’re well-read, quite the talented young lady—surely you understand how much trouble it caused both our families when Qingwu overturned that tea tray and grabbed onto the Zhang family’s third son like that.

“What the Zhang family needs in a new bride is someone sensible, virtuous, and capable. Do you think Shen Qingwu fits that description?”

Shen Qingye opened her mouth, her face white as paper, but no words came out.

Madam Shen said, “Good child, don’t trouble yourself over this any further. Go back and rest. You helped save him too, so you owe her nothing. Leave the rest to us elders to worry about.”

At the Zhang household, a similar conversation was taking place—though far more efficient and to the point than the one at the Shen residence.

Riding home in the carriage, Zhang Wenbi asked Zhang Xingjian, “Your savior—was it really Shen Qingwu? Didn’t you say it was a young man?”

Beside her, her younger brother had been lost in thought. She called his name twice before he came back to himself.

Zhang Xingjian smiled faintly, unhurried. “She says it was her, so I suppose it was.”

His eyes glimmered faintly in the dim lamplight as he added quietly, “That Second Miss Shen doesn’t seem like someone who would lie.”

Like a foolish young lady who wouldn’t know how to lie, whose heart runs straight and true.

What did she look like, dressed as a man? As formidable as she was today, overturning that tea tray?

Does she even realize what consequences an act like that might bring her?

Zhang Wenbi studied her brother for a long moment. She couldn’t quite tell what this cold, detached brother of hers thought of Shen Qingwu, but the faint trace of a smile in his eyes already struck her as dangerous.

Zhang Wenbi said slowly, “Your savior can only be Shen Qingye.”

Zhang Xingjian went quiet for a moment, then gave a soft “Mn.”

Zhang Wenbi continued, “The bride the Zhang family brings in cannot be someone who doesn’t read a room, who makes a scene at a banquet, who overturns a tea tray and turns both our families into a laughingstock. Shen Qingwu might have a bold, interesting temperament, but she isn’t suited to our family.”

Zhang Xingjian laughed softly.

He knew what his sister was worried about.

He answered, “I’ll take care of it.”

Reassured, Zhang Wenbi was certain her brother hadn’t developed any inappropriate feelings toward Shen Qingwu out of some sense of owing her his life.

Zhang Xingjian knocked on the carriage wall, and it rolled to a stop.

He nodded to his puzzled sister with a smile. “Go on home first, sister. Chang Lin and I have somewhere to go—I’ll take care of this matter with Shen Qingwu.”

Zhang Wenbi’s brow relaxed. “Zhang Yuelu, if you’re handling this yourself, then I can rest easy.”

Zhang Xingjian kept his smile in place.

He stepped down from the carriage and stood with his personal guard at the mouth of the long alley, watching the old-fashioned carriage roll away into the depths of the lane.

Of course he had to handle this himself—otherwise, his sister would never rest easy.

Chang Lin asked, “Third Young Master, are we heading to the Shen residence?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “No. First, we leave the city and find that grove of parasol trees—see for ourselves exactly how the whole business of my rescue happened. And also…”

He paused.

Chang Lin repeated, “And also?”

Zhang Xingjian gave a small laugh, his tone curious. “And also, find out exactly what kind of person my savior really is.”

It took Chang Lin a moment to realize that the “savior” his young master meant was Shen Qingwu, not Shen Qingye.

While everyone else was busy, Shen Qingwu had been locked away in a pitch-black narrow passage.

It was a place where you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face—barely a few inches in any direction, front, back, up, or down, just enough room to sit, close enough that raised hands could touch the walls on either side. Anyone locked in a place like this would go mad, or lose their mind, in short order.

The Shen family practiced martial arts, and this was a secret punishment used to break captives, to force confessions or pleas for mercy out of them.

And this particular punishment was one Shen Qingwu had known since childhood.

At first, she had wept hysterically. But over time, she had learned to endure with her eyes closed and her face pale, simply waiting out the hours until someone let her out.

All she hoped was that they wouldn’t forget she was locked in there.

She was still a little afraid of this place.

In a daze, Shen Qingwu heard a knocking sound outside.

Her eyes flew open. Staring into the darkness, she pressed her hand against the wall. “Are you letting me out?”

From outside came Shen Zhuo’s pained voice. “Qingwu, it’s only been a day. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

A wave of overwhelming disappointment rose in Shen Qingwu’s chest. She said nothing, unwilling to answer him.

Shen Zhuo understood her temperament well enough by now—how could a girl who had been locked up and punished like this since childhood be expected to have a cheerful, easygoing personality?

Shen Zhuo said softly, “Mother asked me to ask you—have you thought it over?”

Shen Qingwu felt confused. Thought what over?

As if he could read her mind, Shen Zhuo patiently explained, “You don’t understand—announcing today, in front of everyone, that Zhang Sanlang owes you marriage for saving his life, has left both the Shen and Zhang families humiliated. Mother says, as long as you go out there and tell everyone you were drunk today, that what you said doesn’t count, you won’t have to stay locked in here.”

Shen Qingwu said, “I wasn’t drunk, and I wasn’t talking nonsense. I really did save Zhang Xingjian. You all said he should marry me in return—that’s a story worth telling.”

Outside, Shen Zhuo fell silent, stunned.

He murmured, dazed, “Was it that joke Qingye and I made, that hurt you?”

Locked inside, Shen Qingwu said nothing—she couldn’t understand what he meant.

After a long pause, Shen Zhuo’s voice carried a trace of pain as he tried to reason with her. “At the time, we were only trying to encourage you—we didn’t mean it that seriously. Now that things haven’t worked out with Zhang Sanlang, why don’t you…”

Shen Qingwu said, “It has worked out. Saving a life should be repaid with marriage.”

She tried to make him understand. “He pulled at me—he was afraid the tea would spill on me.”

Shen Zhuo said, “That only proves he has good manners.”

A little annoyed, Shen Qingwu searched for more evidence. “On his way to court, I followed him in secret. His skilled bodyguard noticed me, and so did he—but he didn’t chase me away.”

Shen Zhuo was startled.

He said, reluctantly, “Young women who admire Zhang Yuelu line up from one end of the capital to the other just to catch a glimpse of him. He’s long since used to it. That doesn’t prove anything either.”

Shen Qingwu said, “He didn’t give the flower to Qingye.”

Shen Zhuo said, “Because you were holding onto him.”

Shen Qingwu had no answer to that, unable to find more proof. But she was stubborn, and she insisted, “It’s fate.”

Shen Zhuo was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Do you really like him that much? You truly won’t let this go?”

Not knowing how else to explain herself, Shen Qingwu simply said, “Mn.”

Shen Zhuo said, “But you two aren’t even from the same world…”

Shen Qingwu couldn’t understand that either.

Shen Zhuo’s voice faded away. No more sound came from behind the wall.

Her brother had left.

Shen Qingwu was swallowed once more by the vast darkness and fear—but this time, she closed her eyes and thought instead of that young man buried beneath the parasol trees, his face soft and warm like moonlight.

Her heart slowly settled, calm and at ease.

Hugging her knees, she talked herself into sleep: Zhang Xingjian knows I’m the one who saved his life. He should repay that debt. He should marry me.

In her dreams, he would come and break open the wall that imprisoned her, and carry her far away.

She would leave this place, leave the Shen family behind, say goodbye to everyone—and never come back.